


Encounters of a Personal Nature

by purpleswans



Category: Arslan Senki | Heroic Legend of Arslan
Genre: Backstory, Gen, Headcanon, Politics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-27
Updated: 2017-09-27
Packaged: 2019-01-06 04:14:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12203673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purpleswans/pseuds/purpleswans
Summary: When Arslan and his company must travel through the neighboring country of Creta, they learn some interesting things about their favorite musician.





	Encounters of a Personal Nature

**Author's Note:**

> (Shows up at the last minute with Gieve headcannons) Hiya folks! Here's my Arslan Senki Fandom Week submission. 
> 
> The driving idea behind this fic is an old headcannon of mine. I really don't think that Gieve would have picked up on gis skills with the sword and bow naturally, he had to be taught somewhere. And his disgust towards a ruling class at the beginning had to come from somewhere.

Narsus looked down at a map, rubbing his chin in thought. “Your Highness, I’m afraid the only logical route we can take is through the country of Creta.”

Gieve froze at the sound of the country’s name. Luckily, nobody in Arslan’s camp noticed him since they were all listening to the master tactician.

“That is the small country just to the north of Pars, is it not?” Arslan asked. “If I recall correctly, they are on good terms with Pars, though I’ll admit I don’t know much about the country.”

“Nor does anyone else, your Highness,” Narsus assured the prince. “Creta has adopted a policy of isolation in order to avoid confrontations with other countries. The few merchants who trade with them are forbidden from discussing their experiences there. All we really know about them is that they have a surplus in mineral resources they are willing to sell.”

“I see,” Arslan nodded. “But Narsus, if the country is so opposed to foreign contact, how will we be able to pass through it?”

“To be perfectly honest Highness, I’m not sure,” Narsus admitted. “I just know that this is the only path that isn’t blocked by Lusitanians or any of their allies.”

“Why don’t we just sneak in through the mountains?” Alfreed suggested.

“Unfortunately, that’s not feasible with the Calvary at our back.” Narsus explained. “If it were just the 8 of us it would be possible, but not with the army behind us.”

“Well, I doubt it would be wise to march though a another country with an army without permission from the king of that country.” Arslan said.

“Yes, which puts us in a difficult situation.” Narsus admitted. “If we knew more about the country, such as the location of defense outposts, we could send a message to negotiate with the King of Creta. Unfortunately, I do not know of anyone with this knowledge.”

The other participants of the meeting grumbled in dejection. To have Lord Narsus admit to being at a loss was a terrible sign for the company.

“Your Highness,” Gieve began, getting everyone’s attention. “As you are well aware, my occupation was that of a traveling musician before I came to be in your service. I am extremely well-traveled, and have even wandered into these parts in the past. I may be able to point out some outposts nearby, so that you may do as Lord Narsus suggests.”

The prince’s face brightened at the bard’s words. “That is wonderful! Thank you Gieve.”

Gieve became nervous when he saw how much stock the Prince probably put in his information. “I should warn you though, your Highness, I haven’t been here for over five years. This information may be out of date.”

“Nonetheless, out of date information is better than no information in this case.” Narsus said. “We should tread cautiously, but this is better than going in blindly. If you don’t mind, I would appreciate it if you pointed out as many major landmarks along the border as you can, so that we may formulate a strategy for negotiating with the Cretans.”

Gieve nodded, though deep down he regretted his decision to speak.

* * *

“Big brother! Please, sing me a song!” A little girl whined in the back of a cart.

“O-ho! Well, if you insist dear Lira.” A boy only a couple of years older than his sister picked up a oud and strummed the string. “Tell me, what kind of song shall I sing? The kind drunk men sing at taverns?”

“Noooo! I want a story song!” The girl objected.

“A ballad then.” The boy concluded. “Well then, what kind of ballad would you like to hear? An epic about a great warrior-king and his magnificent deeds? Or a love story about a beautiful woman and her star-crossed lover?”

The little girl pursed her lips, thinking hard. “Do you know any about a girl that marries a righteous king? Or maybe about a really important official, like Father!”

“Hmmm, I don’t think they write any songs about politicians,” the boy said, “but I’m sure we could make one up!”

“Yay! I’ll come up with the words, you come up with the tune!” the girl cheered.

“Children, put the instrument away. We’re almost at the palace.” The children’s father, a nobleman riding his horse beside the cart, insisted.

“Yes father,” both children obediently chanted dishearteningly. The boy set his oud down gently, making sure it wouldn’t be jostled too much with the bumps along the road.

“I hope you two remember to remain on your best behavior. You’re going to be living in the same house as the king. This is a very important position I’ve been given, and a lot of people will expect great things from us. I hope you will rise to the occasion,” the father explained.

“We shall, father,” the little girl said.

The family soon passed through a large gate. On the other side, several men and one young boy were waiting for them on horseback.

“Ah, my old friend,” the rider in front greeted the father. “I trust your journey was pleasant?”

“It was, your Majesty,” the father replied. “I am honored by your concern.”

The boy in the cart perked up. From the way his father was speaking, the man in front must be the king. But, he didn’t look majestic or extraordinary or at all like the songs described a king to be.

The boy was baffled by this.

The king eyed the children in the cart. “I assume these are your heirs?”

The father nodded. “Yes sire, these are my children. Gieve is my heir, and his sister is called Lira.”

The king gestured to the young boy behind him. “This is my son and the future king, Prince Omar. He is about the same age as your boy, so perhaps it would be wise to have them play together. Especially if you intend to have your son succeed you in every way.”

The father nodded again. “That does sound like a good idea, your Majesty.”

Gieve, the boy in the cart, looked at the person who’d just been identified as the prince. He looked rather ordinary, not particularly handsome or athletic or anything else the songs said a prince should be.

Gieve was baffled by this.

* * *

“Your Highness! A message has come from Creta!”

Arslan and his army were camped just outside the Cretan border, where they had been for the past three days. Elam had approached a military outpost just inside the borders waving a white flag, and had asked for a letter written by Prince Arslan to be delivered to the King of Creta. When the message was sent, the soldiers had allowed Elam to return to the camp on the condition that he told his company to remain outside the borders of Creta until further notice.

Arslan greeted the messenger. “Please, let me see what they have to say.”

Arslan unrolled the scroll and read quickly. In only a few seconds he was smiling. “The King has allowed us to pass through his country!” As he read further though, his eyes started to narrow in worry. “He has also invited me and my retainers to dine with him in his castle. I feel like… that is likely a trap of some sort.”

Narsus smirked proudly at his prince’s intuition. “Your thoughts are the same as mine, your Highness. Though, I don’t think we could afford to refuse, as that would be an insult to his Majesty the King of Creta. We should accept this invitation, but make plans in case a trap is sprung. Gieve,” Narsus turned to the musician, “you are the only one among us with any knowledge of this country. What do you make of this?”

Gieve frowned, unwilling to involve himself in this matter. “Your Highness, may I see the letter?”

Arslan handed the scroll to him.

Gieve read the letter.

_To Prince Arslan, Son of Andragoras and Tahamine, Crown Prince of Pars,_

_I have received your request for permission to march across my territory, and I am inclined to grant it under a few conditions. First, you must promise not to disrupt my people’s lives as you pass through. I am instructing a guide to lead your company along our roads so that you may avoid this. Second, if you have need of food or lodgings, you must pay for them as any other traveler would. If you have need of it, I would be willing to loan you money. Third, neither you nor your men must commit any violent crimes as they cross my territory. If you cannot abide by these stipulations, then I will not be able to allow you within these borders again._

_I rarely get the opportunity to meet anyone outside my country, so I would like to invite you and your retainers to dine with me in my castle. My hope is that we may be able to develop a relationship that will benefit both our countries._

_Sincerely,_

_Omar, King of Creta_.

Gieve looked up from the letter and thought carefully. _Both the handwriting and the phrasing are Omar’s, so it’s unlikely that he is simply doing as an advisor of his commands. Still, he isn’t the man I once knew…_

“His interest in meeting you seems genuine, your Highness,” Gieve said. “Still, I share Lord Narsus’s concerns. We can’t be sure that the King and his advisors aren’t planning something for us.”

“We should send someone to scout the area and keep a watch for assassins and other traps, your Highness.” Elam recommended. “I could go.”

“I should be the one to go,” Gieve suggested.

Everyone looked at him like he’d grown a second head.

“I’m surprised you’d willingly give up the chance to socialize with palace girls,” Alfreed noted.

“Eh…” Gieve moved his hands behind his head. “I’m afraid my presence in this diplomatic meeting would do more harm than good.”

“You fraternized with the wrong woman and got yourself kicked out, didn’t you?” Daryun guessed.

“Well, although it is true that I have a connection to a certain beautiful woman there,” Gieve admitted, “I am afraid that the full situation is more complicated than that, and I’d rather just avoid the subject entirely.”

* * *

“Come on Omar! This way!” A teenaged Gieve climbed over a castle wall and encouraged his friend to do the same.

The prince of Creta pushes himself up. “It’s weird, hearing someone other than my mother and father refer to me by my name.”

Gieve laughed. “Well, I can’t exactly call you ‘your Highness’ when we’re sneaking out, can I?”

“Why are we sneaking out anyway?” Omar asked. “It would be a lot easier to go out with escorts and probably a lot safer!”

“Did you not ask me just yesterday to help you become a great king?” Gieve asked, helping his friend over the wall and jumping down. “The best way you can figure out what you need to do is by learning about the great kings of the past. To do that, it is best to hear the legends and songs about them. As for why we are going in secret, common people treat you differently when they know you are royalty or even nobility. If you want to learn the true knowledge these people have, it is best to act like you are the same as them.”

“But why can you not just tell me the stories and sing me the songs?” Omar asked.

“Believe me, I would like to be able to sing you every song in existence, but I don’t know them all,” Gieve explained. “That being said, we can’t go back until I’ve learned a new song. I promised Lira as much.”

Omar turned to his friend in surprise. “Lira enjoys songs?”

Gieve smiled, understanding the young, love-stuck prince’s interest. “Indeed, she does.”

Omar nodded and looked forward with a determined look. “In that case, I better learn several songs tonight.”

* * *

When Arslan and his companions passed through the city gates, they were greeted by a young man, woman, and child wearing crowns.

“Are you Prince Arslan of Pars?” The man asked.

“I am,” Arslan replied. “Am I addressing his Majesty King Omar of Creta?”

“You are,” King Omar nodded. “It is a pleasure to meet you.”

“The pleasure is mine as well.” Arslan said graciously.

King Omar gestured to the woman beside him. “Allow me to introduce my wife, Queen Lira of Creta.”

Arslan nodded at the woman. “It is an honor, Queen Lira.”

The Queen gave a short curtsy to the prince.

“And this is my son, Prince Hondal,” Kind Omar said, indicating the child.

Arslan gave the young prince a smile. “It’s nice to meet you, Prince.”

The boy gave a small bow, then ran off back to the palace.

“ You’ll have to excuse my son, he’s very young and hasn’t met strangers before. Please, Prince Arslan, would you come join me inside?” King Omar asked.

Arslan dismounted and handed the reigns of his horse to a nearby servant before following the King through the palace doors. He could hear his companions doing the same behind him.

The Royal Palace of Ceta was magnificent. The entry hallway had a high dome ceiling with intricate designs carved into the framework. The magnificent decorations that lined the walls gave it a sense of complexity, and likely hid many secret holes for people to hide in.

Arslan suspected that Gieve was hiding in one of these holes.

A middle-aged man in simple yet impractical robes came out of a nearby hallway and bowed to King Omar “Your Majesty.”

The King pushed his shoulders back, giving a stance of someone who had to put on airs. “Grand Visir Sergence. Have you finished making arrangements for our Parsian guests?”

The Grand Visir straightened and cast a wary glance at Arslan and his company. “I have sir, though I wish that you had consulted me before extending the invitation. I would have been able to…”

“Advise me against it, I’m sure.” Omar interrupted his advisor. “Is there a reason why you’re here? I’m entertaining guests.”

Grand Visir Sergence pulled out a scroll and handed it to his king. “It is a small matter, and I would be happy to deal with it myself if you would give me leave…”

“I’ll be the judge of that.” King Omar took the scroll and scanned it quickly. “I wouldn’t call this a small matter. Lira, would you mind showing our guests their rooms, then come join me in the throne room?”

The Queen nodded.

“In that case, you have my apologies Prince Arslan, but there is something I must attend to.” Omar explained.

“Oh, there is no problem.” Arslan graciously replied. “I certainly wouldn’t want you to neglect your people on my account.”

“I see. I shall see you for dinner tonight then.” With that, King Omar quickly left, his Grand Visir following behind.

“Please follow me, Prince Arslan.” Queen Lira led the guests down a grand hallway to the right. Although they all followed obediently, Narsus and Daryun fell back and out of earshot of the Queen.

“What do you make of this King Omar?” Daryun asked.

Narsus sighed. “It’s too soon to tell his true nature, but it is blatantly obvious he does not trust his own Grand Visir. Whether this is the mark of a tyrant, or someone who is attempting to walk his own path remains to be seen.”

Daryun nodded. “I see.”

Narsus frowned. “Tell me, old friend, if our Prince had never met the two of us, do you think that he would have ended up in a position where he couldn’t trust those around him?”

“I’m not sure,” Daryun said. “But I suspect not. His Highness has a charisma that inspires loyalty, and his personality brings out the best in people. Still, power-hungry men would certainly wish to take advantage of him, so it’s likely that without the confidence he’s learned since I met him he would become a puppet to others.”

Narsus closed his eyes. “In any case, I’m glad we’ll never know what would have actually happened and we serve the prince we do.”

* * *

A newly crowned King Omar buried his face in his hands and wept. “I can’t do this. There’s no way I can follow in father’s footsteps.”

Gieve placed a hand on the new King’s shoulder. “You don’t have to do this alone, your Majesty. My Father is still Grand Visir, and I’ll follow in his footsteps. You know you can trust us, you always have.”

King Omar lifted his face. “It sounds weird now, hearing that title from you.”

The barest hint of a smirk appeared on Gieve’s face. “Well, it is only proper. I would be happy to call you simply ‘my friend Omar’ while we are in private, though.”

“I would appreciate that.” King Omar looked out the window, not so subtly avoiding Gieve’s eyes. “Gieve, I think that the people need something to restore their confidence in their King.”

Gieve frowned. “Because of the conditions of your father’s death?”

“He showed no signs of illness, yet suddenly passed in the night. I had barely begun to learn from him what would be expected of me as a king.” Omar reminded Gieve.

“True, it does have the signs of foul play.” Gieve mused.

“That’s why I want to go through with something that my father had whole-heartedly supported. I intend to make Lira my queen.”

Gieve smirked at that. “Well, I certainly have no objections. You have been betrothed to my sister for many months now, and she has been smitten with you since we were children. By all means, go forward with the wedding, and let the dreams of the future wash away the uncertainties of the past.”

“It means a great deal to me that I’ll be ruling with both of my best friends by my side: Lira as my Queen, and you as my advisor and someday Grand Visir,” Omar said.

Gieve laughed. “Well, I’m certainly a long way away from becoming Grand Visir. Right now, I’ll remain satisfied in my father’s shadow, using my skill with weapons to protect you and my talent for music to ease your burdens.”

“That may be, but someday they shall sing songs of Gieve the great hero of Creta and his many accomplishments,” Omar said.

“Only in reference to the Great King Omar and the Magnificent Queen Lira, I’m sure.” Gieve picked up an oud and strummed the strings. “That is surely a song I would enjoy learning.”

“Speaking of songs, would you mind playing one for me?” Omar asked. “Something about a king similar to what I aim to be.”

Gieve strummed the strings again. “I have just the song, old friend.”

* * *

The next time Arslan was able to meet with his host , it was during dinner. While Arslan enjoyed the company of all his companions, the only people  present from Creta were the royal family. Arslan found this concerning.

“The food here is excellent, King Omar,” Arslan complimented.

The King looked genuinely relieved. “I’m glad you think that. I’ll pass on the compliment to the cook.”

Prince Hondal picked at his food a little but soon put it down. “Mama? May I be excused?”

“Yes dear.” The Queen seemed to be more at ease than Arslan or anyone in his company. She probably knew whatever was going on, and either didn’t expect anything to go wrong or had no concerns with what it would mean to her.

As Hondal left, his father turned to Arslan. “You’ll have to excuse him, he’s rather young and not yet used to the formality of court.”

“There is nothing to excuse,” Arslan said. “Like you said, he is young, and isn’t childhood a time to enjoy?”

“You’re right,” King Omar said.

Arslan cast his host a sideways glance. He’d like to think that his host was a good man, but considering the fact that he had his hands full with the war with Lusitania and his experiences in Sindhura, he couldn’t afford to let his guard down.

Also, there was the matter of Gieve’s recent behavior….

Arslan put down the utensils he’d been eating with. “King Omar, I do not wish to be rude, but would you mind if I asked you a difficult question?”

“I do not mind,” King Omar said.

“Was there a reason why you wished to meet with me?” Arslan asked.

All of Arslan’s companions pretended to continue eating, but watched the King’s answer carefully, trying to gage the man. Queen Lira simply chuckled in light amusement.

King Omar took another bite of food and chewed it before answering. “To be perfectly honest, I wanted to find out what kind of man you are and whether or not you’d be a suitable ally.”

Arslan’s eyes widened in surprise. “Really? Are you looking for an alliance?”

“Tentatively.” King Omar turned to speak to Arslan directly. “My country has been isolated for a rather long time, but I fear that it will be detrimental to remain so for much longer. I want to open our borders to travelers, information, and more trade soon, but I need to be sure that my people will be protected. I need someone I can trust to make sure our neighbors don’t take advantage.”

“I see,” Arslan said. “Have you considered asking some of your subordinates that you trust to travel to your neighbors and communicate with them officially?”

King Omar frowned. “I would, except there’s nobody I trust enough besides my wife. Everyone in the palace is in Sergence’s pocket somehow, and he supports our isolation.”

Arslan nodded. “I think I understand. I know what it’s like to want a controversial change in one’s own kingdom. Luckily, I have been blessed with many valuable companions who share my ideals.” Arslan gestured to his company farther down the table.

“Indeed, I wish I had half your luck in loyal companions,” King Omar said.

Narsus looked up and addressed the King. “Your Majesty, if I may be so bold, why have you not replaced Grand Visir Sergence if you disagree on policy so much?”

King Omar looked deeply troubled by this question. “Believe me, I would if I had the chance. But too many powerful people are in league with him, and there’s nobody I could give the position to that isn’t essentially his puppet. Besides, there’s only one man who I would like to have at my side, and, well…”

King Omar looked at his wife nervously.

Queen Lira had some kind of fury in her eyes, though nobody could tell who that fury was directed at. “Prince Arslan, allow me to share some history concerning the position of Grand Visir. My father had inhabited the post during the reign of the previous king, as well as during the first few years of my husband’s. It was believed for a long time that my older brother would be the one to succeed him. But, he did not have much political power outside my father’s legacy and a friendship with my husband. Sergence, on the other hand…”

Arslan nodded, understanding. From what little he’d heard about the man from King Omar and his wife, Sergence must have a talent for politics.

King Omar cleared his throat. “Yes, well, after the death of my father-in-law, Gieve and I had a kind of falling out.”

Everyone at the table froze at that name.

“Gieve?” Arslan asked, though he was already aware of who that was referring to.

“My older brother,” Queen Lira confirmed.

“Yes, he and I ended up having a fight that escalated badly. In hindsight, we were both just hurting over his father’s death, but I suspect that Sergence may have been pulling the strings behind that matter as well. After that, Sergence took the position of Grand Visir. It took a couple of months before Lira was able to convince me that I was acting like Sergence’s puppet,” King Omar explained.

Arslan took a deep breath. “I see. I can’t promise much until I defeat Lusitania, but I would like to see your country’s isolation end, King Omar.”

The King looked truly overjoyed. “Thank you, Prince Arslan. That means a great deal to me.”

Everyone at the table returned to eating. Although nobody actually said as much, everybody in Arslan’s company was thinking about their missing friend.

* * *

Gieve stormed into the King’s room without bothering to announce himself. “Why aren’t you investigating my father’s murder?”

King Omar didn’t even look up from his paperwork. “The doctor said that he came down with a sudden mysterious illness and passed away during the night. There’s nothing to investigate.”

“And you actually believe them?” Gieve asked. “My father has never been sick a day in his life, but you expect me to believe that he died mysteriously without even a cough?”

King Omar looked up. “What do you think happened?”

“Obviously, someone poisoned him.” Gieve growled.

“Well, if that’s the case, then who?” The king asked.

“That’s what I need to find out!” Gieve started pacing. “Some kind of political rival or someone who desired his position…”

“You do realize that the person most likely to take his position in the event of his death is you, right?” Omar pointed out.

Gieve froze. “You don’t seriously think that I had anything to do with…”

“Of course not,” Omar said. “But someone else might. So it would be smart of you to keep your head down and focus on helping the country in other matters, such as managing the tax collection.”

“Speaking of that, would you mind telling me what you were thinking increasing the taxes on the western farmers? Surely you know that a disease took the majority of their crop?” Gieve asked.

“We need the funds,” Omar explained, “and Lord Sergence told me that the crop failure was just a rumor started by the farmers to avoid paying their due.”

Gieve stopped pacing. “Lord Sergence, you say?”

“Yes, Lord Sergence. He has a lot of knowledge about how to best run the country.” Omar returned to his work.

“I see,” Gieve turned to leave the room. “In that case, I’ll have to go check the validity of Lord Sergence’s information.”

* * *

Gieve settled himself into a secret room just beside the dining hall. It was close enough that he could hear what was going on in there, and out of the way enough that nobody should come and find him. That would be exceptionally bad, since he wasn’t supposed to be in the country and Arslan could potentially be in diplomatic relations with Omar.

It felt weird, being back in the castle of his childhood and yet being a total stranger. Using the secret passages so people wouldn’t kill him, rather than to sneak out without an escort. There weren’t as many familiar faces as he’d have hoped, which probably indicated how much Sergence’s influence had grown.

Gieve pressed his ear against the wall. Was Omar actually asking Prince Arslan for an alliance? Why? Oh, it had to do with ending the country’s isolation. That always had been a dream of Omar’s, ever since they were kids. It was good to learn that at least some things about his old friend hadn’t changed.

Suddenly, the door opened and a child wandered in.

Gieve mentally cursed, and hoped that the boy would leave without looking up where he was.

No such luck.

“Who are you?” the boy asked. “What are you doing in my secret place?”

“Ah, my apologies, I didn’t realizes this was yours.” Gieve babbled, praying that his silver tongue would find a way out of this.

The boy’s eyes had fallen on the instrument at Gieve’s side. “You play the oud? Can you play a song for me?”

That sudden interest in songs… it reminded Gieve so much of a little girl begging big brother to play her another song….

_Ah, I see_ , Gieve realized. _Well, they are married._

“I’d love to little one, but if I did then the sound would carry and people would discover your secret place.”

“Oh,” the boy looked crestfallen, but didn’t argue the reasoning.

“Would you settle for a story?” Gieve asked.

The boy’s eyes lit up and he nodded.

Gieve lifted the boy up into his lap and strained his ears to hear some more of the conversation. Were they talking about… him? Well, he hadn’t expected Lord Narsus to enter this place without discovering something about his past. He hoped that this didn’t affect Lady Farangis’s opinion of him. But Omar sounded… almost remorseful. Maybe there was still hope for him.

The boy on his lap poked at Gieve’s arm. “What’s the story?”

That shook Gieve out of his stupor. “Ah, sorry little one.” He quickly racked his brain for a story. “What kind of story would you like to hear?”

“A story about a prince!” the boy eagerly requested.

_Definitely my sister’s child._

There were probably other stories that would be appropriate, but for some reason Gieve found himself telling a tale he hadn’t learned from any bard. “There once was a prince named Arslan in a country not very far from here. He was a kind boy, who valued the least of his subjects just as much as his lords and knights.”

The boy was already engrossed in the story.

“This prince lived for many years in the safety of his father’s castle,” Gieve continued, “but one day, a terrible army invaded Prince Arslan’s country. Since he was of age and had yet to fight his maiden battle, the prince joined his father on campaign to drive the invaders out. Unfortunately, this battle ended in defeat for the Prince’s army, with his father in chains and the invaders about to take his capital.”

The boy gasped. “Oh no!”

“Oh no indeed.” Gieve couldn’t hide his amusement. “However, the prince did have one advantage: a knight with no equal, whose loyalty lay with Prince Arslan and nobody else. This knight, known as Daryun, was able to save his prince from certain death and lead him safely to a recluse friend of his.”

Gieve continued like that, telling the story of Prince Arslan’s journey like it was a tale of an ancient king. The boy – Lira and Omar’s child, he was sure of it now – listened attentively. He tried to keep one ear open for anything nefarious in the next room, but nothing happened until they all left for bed. At that point, Gieve admitted that he wouldn’t do them any more good staying here and not attempting to find any of Sergence’s plots before they came to fruition.

“… And as such, the prince and his companions determined that they would have to pass through the neighboring kingdom,” Gieve finished abruptly.

“Well? What happened next?” the boy asked.

“I’m afraid I don’t know.” Gieve admitted.

The boy frowned. “What do you mean you don’t know? Aren’t you the one telling the story?”

“Yes, but the story is unfinished,” Gieve explained.

The boy crossed his arms and pouted. “Unfinished stories are stupid.”

Gieve chuckled. “Actually, I quite like unfinished stories, because we can decide for ourselves how they end.”

“Oh,” the boy seemed interested in that.

Gieve smiled. “Remember this, little prince, we are all characters in the great unfinished story called ‘life’ and we are the ones who determine what happens next.”

The boy looked up. “How did you know I was the prince?”

Gieve jumped down from his perch and set his nephew on the ground. “Because you look a great deal like your mother when she was young.”

* * *

“WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS!!????”

King Omar stormed out into the courtyard where his oldest friend was currently holding a sword at one of his advisor’s throats.

Lord Sergence was quivering under Gieve’s sword. “I do not understand, I can’t imagine what could possess you to attack me, lord Gieve…”

“You know exactly what you did!” Gieve shouted. “You are the one behind it all!”

“Gieve! Enough!” Omar barked the order.

Gieve didn’t put away his sword, though he did lower it a few inches.

“My King, if you knew half the things this man has done…” Gieve started to explain.

“What? Where is your proof of this imagined wrongdoing?” Sergence asked.

“There is none, but you made sure that, did you not?” Gieve spat.

“My King, I know this man is your brother-in-law, but he attacked me unprovoked.” Sergence insisted.

The other people in the courtyard murmured among themselves in agreement.

“I am telling you, he’s the one behind everything!” Gieve insisted. “Who do you believe more, him or me?”

Omar narrowed his eyes. “Lord Gieve, you are my oldest friend and my brother, but I cannot stand for this.”

The whole world waited with bated breath.

“Lord Gieve, you are banished from the county of Creta. Be grateful that I do not order your execution.”

Gieve’s lips became thin lines. “I see. So this is the kind of King you really are.” He slid his sword into his sheath.

Suddenly, he started laughing like a madman.

“You know, King Omar, you are in fact doing me a favor. If this is your true nature, then I would never wish to serve a king like you. They will never sing songs about your deeds.”

And with that, Gieve turned and disappeared into the night.

* * *

Gieve didn’t catch up with Arslan and his company for several miles outside the capital gates.

“Your Highness! I have returned!” He cried out.

Arslan turned on his horse and greeted the musician. “Gieve! I am glad that you are unharmed.”

Gieve caught up with the rest of the company with a smile on his face and immediately turned to lady Farangis. “Ah, my love, I am sure that you were worried day and night for my safety, but there was no reason—”

“Not really.” Farangis abruptly cut him off.

Gieve’s face fell. He also couldn’t shake the sensation of several stares from his comrades. The most notable among which included Alfreed and Jaswant.

“Gieve, could I ask for your advice on something?” Arslan asked.

“Of course, your Highness.” Gieve said.

“While we were visiting with King Omar, he suggested that we form an alliance between Pars and Creta. What do you think of this?” Arslan asked.

Gieve waited a few moments before answering, giving the question careful thought. “Well, first of all, I don’t see many immediate benefits with Pars. It’s Creta that will benefit the most from that arrangement. However, as Creta begins to flourish, having a good relationship with them may pay off eventually.”

Arslan nodded understanding.

“On a personal level though,” Gieve admitted, “I do believe that King Omar would become a much better King if he has you as a friend, your Highness.”

“I’ll take your words to heart then, Gieve.” Arslan said.

**Author's Note:**

> In terms of characterization, I think Gieve is a true romantic. Not just in the sense that he likes beautiful women, but with how he has an idealistic view of how heroes and kings should act and is sorely disappointed when they don't live up to his expectations. 
> 
> Also, fun fact: This is actually the abbreviated version of this story! At some point I'd like to rewrite this as a 10+ chapter fic with an actual plot, more context for the backstory, Gieve taking on the man that ruined his life, and a more satisfying ending.


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